From here, I
see little windows.
lit by
Christmas lights, Christmas trees.
Far away, I
travel in time with music.
and get lost
in right now, looking for sense.
We used to
dance till our hair got wet in sweat.
Yell in concerts
till we had no more voice.
We used to
worry:
how to get
in with our fake IDs;
how to go
back home at the end of the night.
We were
free. from worry. from responsibility. from fulfilling future dreams.
Until the
future "arrived" suddenly.
Get up. Go
to work. Rush hour.
Office
politics. Pray for the weekend.
Behave. Be
nice. Be what's expected. Don't be.
Don't say.
Stay in the box.
Go to bed.
Close your eyes. Be elsewhere.
Anything
could happen,
but now is
the future.
Do we still
have time? to be "us"? even when the alarm goes on;
and the
world calls on us to be adults?
Can we still
go out in the middle of the night,
with the
little windows watching us,
after so
many Christmases?
Will the
pressure of now explode in the windy rain,
and glitter
fall upon us,
in a big
dance, outside, like before?
